Chris
Our staring contest began and went on for months; it had been half a year of toying with each other from a distance. Every Monday was an emotional rollercoaster because, in some assemblies, she wouldn't even be sitting down; other weeks, she would sit in such a way that we could see each other directly without anyone being able to notice our—interchange. Those were the most difficult days. She was in one corner of the hall at the back, and I was in the opposite corner across from her. The balcony above gave us cover and put us in a shadow. As soon as everyone's attention was on the stage… all the rules flew out the window. It was as if she needed the courage to flirt with me, or she was just as confused as I was. The whole situation was frustrating me, waiting from week to week to catch a glimpse. Then there were the holidays. It had been torture not seeing her for some time, but we were back at school after one, and I was almost frantic to know when she would surface.
The new term was in full swing, and that day after school, I had to coach track and field. High-bar practice times were later in the afternoon, and I hadn't seen her all week. The situation was ridiculous. Subconsciously, I was thinking of her, and I couldn't understand how she could avoid me so carefully. It felt like I was going insane. I'm getting emotionally invested- or physically- who knows? "Am I really going to have to wait another week to see her?" I whispered to myself. "I should really stop doing that… talking to myself."
"Did you say something, Mr. Rheed?" One of my students asked.
I shook my head. I never used to talk to myself; somewhere along the line, I got into the habit… as if someone was always listening. I gestured with my chin toward the beam so he could jump the last turn of the day, and we were finally done. The kid walked up to me after. I told him he did great and tried to talk him up for that weekend's competition. Seemed like he got some encouragement from it. I clapped my hands together. All the students present took hold of a piece of equipment to pack up the gear. It was a priority of mine to have a good relationship with my students, and I walked a long road with some of them as the years passed. Knowing I had impure thoughts about—one of them—was a serious problem. It was the first time it had ever happened, but it didn't make my conscience feel any better.
After locking the door to the store room, all the kids dispersed for home. I grabbed my bag and lifted the strap over my head. I had parked close to the gates of the sports field, so I didn't have to go all the way back to the school grounds parking lot. I walked toward the top of the bleachers, then looked down at the grassy field where the hurdle athletes were still practicing and making a last hundred-meter sprint down the length of the strip. Six girls were flying over the obstacles, racing against each other. I stopped to watch that year's talent when I saw her running the closest lane past me. She gave it her all until she crossed the finish line, winning by a good margin. I had stopped breathing again. My heart flopped around like a fish dying on land, seeing her like that, out of the blue… Being able to actually take in all of her from a distance, doing something else than what I was used to. She was her own person, enjoying something, good at something. She bent over, panting, resting her hands on her knees to cool down after the sprint. Her long legs were painfully visible in her tiny athletics shorts, ass in the air. A crop top tightly spanned over her now visible breasts. A long strand of hair from a ponytail hung down next to her face. My mouth was dry. It took me a few swallows to get myself together. "Oh, crap," I muttered. How the hell was I going to move on from that… What irritated me most was that I called her and all the other females in the school "girls." That was what they were. Where did my decency go? Did I have any self-control? The more the year progressed, the worse I felt… "I should go see a priest or something."
My old friend, Mr. Schneider, approached her with his stopwatch in hand. He touched her shoulder while she was slumped over. I took an involuntary step forward and growled. She looked at the watch and then up at his face, beaming and happy. He nodded, smiled to acknowledge her accomplishment, and patted her on the back, probably congratulating her. They were sharing a moment. I cursed. An occurrence he would've had many times with some of his students. Real pride and excitement for them. I had done that before. It was no big deal. There was nothing wrong with it, but my gut didn't agree.
Her torso lifted, and her hands came to rest on her hips, painfully revealing the cleft of her small breasts. She circled towards the bleachers, taking a few deep breaths. I did as well, waiting to see her reaction when she saw me. Our eyes met, her body stiffened briefly, and her hands dropped off her sides. She breathed in deeply but turned away quickly to pick up a hurdle in a jerky motion. I cursed again. My friend was trailing beside her, speaking as she picked up another hurdle and rested both on her shoulders. She was so comfortable with him, and they shared more moments. Jealousy surfaced for the first time. If I was having impure thoughts about her, it meant other men were noticing her, too. That usually happened after a certain age, didn't it? Girls became women.
After jealousy, there was a raging need. A desperation she had awakened inside of me, and I wanted satisfaction. I had buried that part of me, and it seemed to react only to her. "Is this a midlife crisis? Is this how it starts?" I shook my head. "I'm way too young for that!" Scared of my own feelings, I took the safe path and turned on my heels, walking back the way I came, giving myself time to cool down. My friend would've called me over if I had gone past them. He might even tell me her name. That couldn't happen. I would have to stay away from her. No! Avoid her at all costs.
My ridiculous situation at home didn't help my resolve. My wife was there… but she wasn't there… absent in every way. Most days, the house's emptiness left me drained and lonely. There was nothing left anymore but conflict and problems. Our relationship had been like that for three years, and I couldn't take it anymore… No, I didn't want to. We got married, and everything changed. Sita turned into a completely different person overnight. I wanted a relationship, but not the one I got. She didn't touch me. Never talked to me. Avoided me. We didn't even sleep together in the same room anymore. Hadn't for two years. Recently, at night… I locked myself in my study because I had found an escape. A beautiful woman with a gorgeous smile. One who still blushed… when I just looked at her. She didn't seem like one of those women who would make an issue out of a small thing. "Oh, what do you know? You don't know her at all." She was only a tiny fantasy, I told myself, opening up thoughts of leaving my wife and starting over. It didn't have to be with this girl.
***
Some more weeks passed like that, living from Monday to Monday. I wish I could say I was strong and avoided her like I said I would, but before I knew it, I sat in that chair along the wall, letting her eyes undress me. Our staring wasn't so uncomfortable anymore. It had become… natural. She did it with so much practice that no one would even know. Sometimes, I wondered if I might have had the whole thing wrong. She would be speaking with someone, or she would find me in a crowd, pierce me with a quick glance, and keep talking, pretending to be interested in other things. All I had to do was wait… Those bedroom eyes would always find mine again, ensuring I was still there focused on her.
Sports practice also got the better of me. After I finished for the day, I would walk over to my friend to greet him and chat like always, wanting to ask him about her. I didn't. I knew it would make him suspicious. She avoided us and steered clear, walking circles around us, and it made me think she was uncomfortable with me that close. It never went any further than the secret acknowledgment we had going. I had come to a point where I didn't care... A little closer to her was all I needed.
I would see my priest in jail…
***
Juliet
Those last few weeks after Chris saw me on the sports field for the first time were difficult. He was moving closer, more and more, and I pulled away little by little, just waiting in the shadows. There were some moments when I was caught off guard. We would make eye contact over the quad or down a corridor. It was brief, but the emotions etched in our eyes were not. My obsession had become tangible, and I knew if I moved only an inch closer, it would spiral out of control. I was addicted to the game and followed him more after school so I could see him alone. Spend time with him.
Even if I was only a high school student, I knew what love was and felt it was different with Chris. To me, it wasn't some fling of attraction, and I didn't want to rush in there and screw it up. Yet, the pull I experienced toward that man was growing. If it was at all possible. I couldn't explain it. There had always been something about him. He was older and more mature with delicate features, a loner with soft brown eyes—as if he was also not human—same as me. And somehow, Chris would fit right into my world.
I didn't want him to have the wrong idea about us or me, but I couldn't get myself to break the habit… I was consumed with the desire to see him... The thing was that one could be obsessed from far off. So, I steered clear and was happy to have the fantasy that there was something more going on and the possibilities for the future. The only reason he saw me was because he changed his seat on a Monday.
I didn't tell my parents; too scared they would freak out about me liking another human. After my first bout with a one, they would be reluctant. I got more lectures from my friends… Carl and Charlene noticed Chris's behavior change, yet his wife, on the other hand, seemed too stupid to notice. I still got a funny vibe from her and avoided going anywhere close to where she would be.